


Goodness

by forthosebelow



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Cock Warming, Face-Fucking, Light Feminization, M/M, PWP, Sub Alexander Hamilton, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8116873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthosebelow/pseuds/forthosebelow
Summary: Thinking takes a lot of effort. Pleasing Washington takes about zero.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Quid Pro Quo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880157) by [rillrill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillrill/pseuds/rillrill). 



> So super short and kinda crappy? I don't know. I thought about writing more but then thought fuck it, I wrote something I sorta like, let's do this.   
> Quick smut inspired at least loosely by Quid Pro Quo by rillrill, because I don't think it be possible for me to wright anything ham/wash without thinking back to that amazing fic. (I've read it like ten times)
> 
> ps. marvel hurts me. I feel dead inside. Give me time. But if you switch some names around this could easily be clint/phil. isnt it funny how that works? (like legit all my ships are the same clint/phil, ham/wash, harry/eggsy, shiro/pidge, cisco/wells. I am fucked)

All Alexander wanted to do was stop thinking so goddamn much. Because when he thought the words jumbled up in his brain until they came spilling out of his mouth or tumbling off his pen, and there were always repercussions for his words. There was never an escape from the words, and he desperately one.

He didn’t understand why he ended up between Washington’s spread thighs, on his knees, tucked beneath a desk. That wasn't a logical solution, like exercise or therapy would have been, but he couldn't argue with the results. His mind was blissfully clear as he breathed in the smell of Washington's sweat. Alexander wasn't sure how long he had been down on the floor but the deep set ache in his knees and his jaw would suggest that it been awhile. But no one had come into George’s office and the older man still seemed more than content to just let his cock rest on Alexander’s tongue. Alexander could still be good.

His tongue fluttered against the head of Washington’s cock as George brushed a hand through his hair. “Good girl,” Washington murmured and tugged at a few of the strands. Alexander moaned. “Just a little bit longer and then I’ll fuck your pretty face, alright?” Hamilton went to nod but his movements were too clumsy. He tried to remember how long he had been hard for as his own cock jumped at Washington’s promise, but his mind was in that happy, muddy place where the only thing that mattered was Washington. His eyes drifted closed and he focused on the slightly salty taste of George’s cock.

“Baby girl?” Alexander knees were on fire when Washington spoke to him again. “Do you want to come out now?” Alexander wanted to say yes, everything had started to burn and the thin coat of saliva covering his chin had started to itch, but more than anything else he wanted Washington. Whatever the man would give him. He started to suck in earnest, pulling the cock deeper into his throat. “Okay,” George chuckled, “But let’s get you up from under my desk.” Washington slowly pushed his chair back, Alexander following on his knees, trying, desperately to keep the cock in his mouth. His whimpers were pitiful to his own ears when Washington’s cock did slip out and hit him on the chin. The bright light of the room made Alexander dizzy, but he kept his eyes open and blinked up at George through his eyelashes. “Fuck” The older man gritted out and wrapped a hand around the base of his hard cock. Alex moaned and his mouth fell open, his only thought, the only word, was _more_.

Washington shushed him as he guided his cock into Hamilton’s mouth. “Just keep your throat open for me, pretty girl,” He commanded. Alexander gagged at the first brush of Washington’s cock against the back of his throat but forced himself to hold still, let it happen, be good. Washington wasn't gentle, thrusting tirelessly into Alexander’s mouth, pushing until he was buried in the boy's throat, balls hitting Alexander’s chin. Alexander registered all of it, the smell, the taste, his limited view of Washington's quivering thighs and flexing pelvis, and the overwhelming feeling of having his throat being stuffed so full, of the drool leaking from the corners of his mouth, the burning in his lungs. Washington threaded a hand into the hair at the nape of his boy’s neck and held Alexander steady as he into him as he neared his release. “You look so perfect right now, son, so good for me.” Alexander whined, this was all he needed, his brain supplied dimly, to be used. Washington came with a guttural moan, spilling onto Alexander’s tongue.

It was all a quiet blur after that. Washington bringing Alexander off with smooth careful strokes, and soothing words. A litany of ‘good girl’s and ‘my precious son’s dropped without hesitation. Alexander just floated. Let himself be moved and guided, stroked and cherished and praised. He was _good_ , Washington had said so. Washington never lied to him.

Alexander woke up with Washington’s strong chest beneath his cheek, soft breaths rocking him slightly back and forth. This was nice too, now that his brain was whirring back to life an old desktop. It was still good. Good to be held, good to be with Washington. The touches and affirmations lasted throughout the day. They lasted for months. Years. George never got tired of telling Alexander how pretty he was, how good he was. And who was Alexander to complain?


End file.
